


No Forgiveness, Even For the You Who is So Filthy

by Manya_Kami



Category: Kagerou Project, Mekakucity Actors
Genre: A Form of Cannibalism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, But Shintarou too honetsly, Eroguro, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mostly on Kuro's part, Not A Happy Ending, OOCness, Really Nasty Cannibalism, Sexual Content, Sexual Metaphors, lots and lots of metaphors, oh gosh, this is definitely the worst thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manya_Kami/pseuds/Manya_Kami
Summary: "There's been a mistake, Shintarou."He speaks again, and damn, that voice is like butter, coating his ear drums in a substance thick enough that he can no longer hear his own thoughts (and while he will certainly not realize this now, he was also deafened to the alarms sounding when he finally remembers whom Kokonose Haruka was)."...So I'm gonna fix it."





	No Forgiveness, Even For the You Who is So Filthy

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing around with cannibalistic eroguro ideas because I'm a really nasty person, and came up with this.
> 
> Frankly, I've never seen or read anything with something like this in it, so this'll at the very least be interesting.

_Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy._

_Why is everything spinning?_

_Why am I... spinning?_

_I'm so... dizzy._

 

.

.

 

It was an average enough night, as far as Shintarou's standards went. His sister had gone into town some time before; his mother was out providing a source of income for this shabby house.

Fuck the fact that he was old enough to get a job and rake in some additional cash along with Momo; fuck the fact that he's been the one dragging them down with hefty internet and cable bills, Shintarou didn't give a hot pile of shit for that.

They understand, sometimes. It's hard, really, really hard, and time's heavy hands grow more tedious as Shintarou plows his way through day after day after day. It's easier now, a bit, that he's isolated himself from the ticking sun and moon outside, hauling himself up in a four plaster wall cage that seems to dull the movement of things. Even Ene, rambunctious, eager Ene, has seemed to quite her normally loud existence over the past few months.

In the calm after the storm, Shintarou's been left fragile and explosive, like a bomb waiting to go off. It's not an entirely incorrect analogy - memories of her run through his mind, crashing through the shore of his long-distance memory like stormy ocean water. He's the lightning and the thunder in the clouds. When he shrieks, the whole house will hear it.

But tonight there's no one to hear him, and no one to try and infect his quiet peace with bubbliness or care. Just a quiet night, his luminescent screen and he, old partners reunited after a long separation.

The _rapping_ and _tip-tip-tap_ on his keys soothe his damaged ears, brining a calm, serene feeling to the deepest recesses of his bones. Caffeine thrums through the inner workings of his veins, inside is pulsing arteries, a feeling he certainly wouldn't be ashamed to say he had missed. He takes another swig - cola chasing away the thick flem remaining on his tongue and washing down his throat like an oil spill.

It's the last drop, Shintarou realizes begrudgingly, and that had been the last can in his room. He's left with a heady thirst and an arsenal of empty Coca Cola cans on his desk, as well as a decision on whether he's up for going into the kitchen - the _dark, empty kitchen_ \- to get a fresh collection.

His sleep-circle eyes flicker back to the glaring computer screen. Ene is curled up in a pseudo ball, snoring softly with her head resting on her arms. Sighing to himself, Shintarou heaves himself off of his spinny chair - he _loves_ that chair, goddammit - and quietly tiptoes his way to his room door, opening it slowly, to make sure it does not creak, and peers out into the inky abyss of the night-painted hallway. It's not like he's _scared_ , or anything, he's just... he, he doesn't want to trip, and fall and break his neck or something, you see?

Tentatively setting his feet out, he creeps like a burglar trying to break into someone's house. _Tip, toe, tip, toe_. God, that's pathetic. If Momo saw him she would surely have a laughing fit.

He almost lets out a yelp when his clothed foot touched the hard, tiled surface of the kitchen floor as opposed to the hallway carpet, alerting him that he has reached his destination. 

Shintarou maneuvers through the kitchen to where he can only assume the fridge would be, and is almost about to reach for the handle when he hears it.

The sound is raspy, yet smooth, and indescribably _eerie_. Shintarou goes stock still, and every muscle, every _cell_ in his body crystallizes and he does not move, _he does not move_ , as he listens for it to continue. It's the sound of something rough sliding against something smooth, slowly, slowly, like a burlap sack being drug against a marble floor. The noise dribbles into Shintarou's ear like slick honey, and the fear in his stomache is bubbling in a frenzy so fierce he swears that the organ with burst, flooding his insides with its acidic juices. The pressure of the situation is heavy, so heavy that he might as well be drowning, bones quickly collapsing under the weight of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water piled atop his limp body.

And then, and _then_ , every horror that he would've otherwise believed was trapped inside his own warped brain became a reality as he felt slick, _slick_ masses winding up his body like a jungle creeper. This is... this is...

 _I_ _**K**_ ~~N~~ oW ~~i~~ ** _'v_** **e** f _e_ ~~ **l**~~ t ~~t **h**~~ ~~~~ _i_ _ **s**_ f **e** ~~ _e_~~ l **i** _ ~~n~~_ ~~~~ **g** _b_ **e** f ~~o~~ _r_ ~~ **e**~~ ~~.~~

 

.

.

"...Shintarou."

Who's...? Oh my, oh my, why, that voice, it sounded... it sounded just like a classmate Shinatrou had known at some time... though looking back, it was impossible to pinpoint when. One... Kokonose? Was that not his name? It sounded right, it sounded right...

Ah... Ha... Haruka. Kokonose... Haruka? Bringing such a name to the front of Shintarou's brain brought images of a dim-witted, bubbly boy with fluffy, fluffy hair... But, but, Shintarou swear he's never met such a boy in his life...

" _Shintraou._ "

With a jolt he's brought back to reality, and in this such case, reality is face to face with a boy who could not be so much older than he, with lime eyes and hair the colour of gunpowder. His clothing appeared baggy and dark, decorated with arrows, pointing up and pointing down.

Shintarou swears that he's never seen such a boy in his life.

_...Have I?_

The boy presses his ink-painted thumb against Shintarou's chin, tilting his head upwards so that their eyes may meet. Neon yellow bore into the shorter boy's being, flooding his brain with a fear that he cannot taste, yet a flavor he knows, _he knows_.

"There's been a mistake, Shintarou." He speaks again, and _damn,_ that voice is like butter, coating his ear drums in a substance thick enough that he can no longer hear his own thoughts (and while he will certainly not realize this now, he was also deafened to the alarms sounding when he _finally_ remembers whom Kokonose Haruka was). The taller boy's eyes flutter as he stares into Shintarou's foggy brain, and says, "So I'm gonna fix it."

Shintarou's brain is spinning, the room is spinning, everything is _spinning spinning spinning_ and Shintarou's brain begins to spiral out of control, until they're no longer standing in a kitchen in favor of a hospital room.

A hospital room... a surely melancholy place to any who find the unfortune to have to visit one, but for Shintarou, he felt something crack, inside that fine glass wall deep in the silky tissue of his brain. A trigger, just a little dent, and a death...

His sad train of thought is soon interrupted, however, by a push of his back and he topples onto the mattress.

"W-What the f-mmph!" The NEET boy shudders when the other crashes their lips together, jaw ramming into jaw with enough force to pop the soft lips and make the bones crumble in a gritty dust.

The taller boy pulls back, straddling Shintarou's hips, allowing spit to dribble from his open mouth as lime eyes hood with sudden unseen desire. "Haruka had always wanted to do that, you know..." He says, smirking.

_Haruka, Haruka._

_Who is Haruka..._

_Haruka... would that be..._

_you?_

The inky-haired boy - "Haruka" - set quick work to undoing Shintaro's belt, eyes lit up with a hunger far to extreme to be attributed to mere lust. Shintarou began to panic; What is this, what's happening? Is this sex? Why is... I do _n't u **nde rstand**_

Shintarou's cock is not hard, and apparently that's an issue, seeing as how Haruka's first goal appeared to be to make it so. He tapped his long, spindle fingers to delicate rhythm of his own under the base of Shintarou's shaft, before beginning to presses and squeeze, harder and harder, as though his dick was a tub of emptied paint and he was trying to work out the last few drops. The shorter boy wanted to protest, to scream, no _no_ _N_ _O_ _, anything_ , but it was though his mouth was sealed tight shut with glue; even attempting to open his jaw was a grueling process.

When he deemed the fuckstick hard enough Haruka breathed deeply before reaching an arm behind himself, and Shintaro _knows, knows what he must be doing back there, his pants are down oh god oh god what the **fuck**?_

It all happens so fast, so fast, that Shintarou's mind literally can't register that Haruka has now forced his cock into the swampy confines of his bowels. It- _It's gross_ , it's so detestful, this squishy, squelching feeling, bubbling up until it pops and splatters, how nasty, how nasty, _Get off of me let me out let me out-_

His eyes finally meet Haruka's, and upon that hard lime gaze boring into him again Shintaro remembers, Haruka - he was a sweet boy, he was so naïve and - _he would not want something like this_.

The taller boy smirks as he brings his ass down onto Shintarou's hips repeatedly, and is grinning like a Cheshire Cat when he asks, "Doesn't it just feel _heavenly_?"

And in some sick, twisted recess of Shintarou's mind, he has to agree, because even though it's mushy and foul, it's also _tight_ and _hot_ , squeezing around him so good, so, so good...

He's even more disgusted with his _own_ self when he feels he's about to climax, hot pressure building inside his core and in the background he can hear _Haruka laughing, cackling_ and Shintarou stupidly hopes that when he comes the hot liquid shoots up Haruka's spine and kills him.

Except - he never reaches that point.

It starts as a very minute pain. A senseless tugging, hefting his shaft deeper and deeper into that sewage tunnel, and he assumes it's just Haruka's anal muscles clenching tighter than before now that he was reaching his climax. Of course he doesn't think anything of it - it would be illogical to do so.

But then the pain increases. It's sharp on his dick now, and he can feel the muscles in his waist start to ache, as they were slowly and torturously stretched. Haruka's eerie laughter disforms into a full blown cackling, cracking through the air like a whip and Shintarous wants to scream, it hurts _so bad_. It doesn't make sense it doesn't make sense - but it's _reality_. That cavern in _pulling in his flesh_.

Like a mouth, it's terrifying. _Unfathomably_ so. But Shintarou's brain pops and the fluids begin to run down his spine, cooling his nerves of the hot sharp burning aCHE as he's literally eaten alive, by Haruka's _ass_.

His bones start snapping - literally, breaking into chunks as they are pulled into the black hole. His organs condense and pop, vital life fluids gushing out of every opening and spelling onto the floor in a sweet mix. Haruka cups Shintarou's face as it cracks like fine China, explaining almost hysterically the situation playing out before them.

"I had t-to figure out h-h-how to ge-ah!-t rid of you f-forever, Shinta-tarou... S-So, I Ah-! thought, why not bec-come one...!" His speak broken up by brittle stutters and gasps of sick satisfaction and pleasure as his anal muscles devoured the fleshy mess that was Shintarou.

By the time the majority of Shintarou's body had already disappeared within him, and Kuroha was certain the NEET boy was no longer alive, he clenched his fist tight, ripping off the flesh of Shintarou's used-to-be face and holding it close to his own.

"Kokonose Haruka..." He murmurs, to the boy residing deep within himself (now one of two, haha). "Aren't you happy, that you were granted this one last wish?"

Pressing the bloodied, squishy, fleshy mess to his mouth,

he bites down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Ahem* it changes from "Haruka," which is used incorrectly from Shintarou's POV to "Kuroha" because at that point Shinshin is dead haha
> 
>  
> 
> ha


End file.
